A Masterclass in Gravity

Gravity - that invisible force we so often take for granted. It’s there, gently keeping our feet on the ground, ensuring our pint stays safely in the glass, and occasionally reminding us that we're not quite as agile as we used to be. 

Yesterday, I had one of those reminders - and let me tell you, it wasn’t just any fall. No, this was the crème de la crème of tumbles. The pinnacle of “Old Bloke Falls.” I'll take you through it step by step - quite literally.

 
It all started innocently enough. There I was, minding my own business, probably thinking about my Triumph GT6 or the fish in the pond that seem to multiply like rabbits on holiday. Then it happened. A slight misstep, the kind that would normally have me flailing like an octopus at a disco. But not this time. No, this fall was different. It was calm, controlled, almost... graceful.

You see, when you're younger, a fall is a flurry of arms, legs, and curses as you desperately try to avoid the inevitable. Your brain, in full panic mode, sends signals at lightning speed: “Stick out your hand! Twist your body! Land on something soft!” But yesterday, none of that happened. It was as though my brain, now older and apparently slower, said, “Ah, sod it. Just go with the flow.” And so I did.

I surrendered myself to gravity. There was no mad scramble to break my fall, no heroic attempt to defy the laws of physics. Instead, I gently succumbed to the pull of the earth, like a leaf falling from a tree, albeit one with slightly more groaning and a lot less grace.

As I descended, I had what can only be described as an out-of-body experience. Time slowed down. In my head, I pictured myself like one of those skydivers who calmly float towards the earth, arms outstretched, as if to say, “Yes, I’m falling. But I’m doing it with dignity.”

Of course, the reality was somewhat less elegant. If there’s ever been a fall that combined the effortless resignation of a man who knows he’s not 20 anymore with the clumsy thud of someone who probably should’ve been paying attention, this was it.

Now, you might be thinking, “Surely you tried to stop yourself at some point?” And to that, I say, why? At my age, there’s no point pretending that a fall can be avoided. No, no. This was an old bloke fall. It’s not about fighting it; it’s about accepting it, rolling with it (metaphorically, if not literally), and hoping that nothing important gets bruised – apart from your pride.

When I finally met the ground, I lay there for a moment, contemplating life, gravity, and whether I’d remembered to feed the fish that morning. And then, in true old bloke fashion, I dusted myself off, muttered something about “bloody uneven ground,” and went on my way, as if nothing had happened.

So, what’s the moral of this story? Well, if you’re approaching a certain age (or have already surpassed it), embrace the fall. Don’t fight it. There’s a certain zen-like quality to just letting gravity do its thing. And who knows, with enough practice, you too might perfect the art of the “Old Bloke Fall.”

But maybe avoid doing it too often. Even gravity has its limits. And so does my back.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve some anti-slip shoes to invest in.